


Kiss Someone Else

by Ritual_Union



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, M/M, Truth or Dare, trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9963791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ritual_Union/pseuds/Ritual_Union
Summary: Now here he is, sat crossed-legged across from Malfoy on the sofa, waiting for Merlin-knows-what devious task he will likely be sent to complete. He wonders for a minute how he could have landed himself in this quandary, and comes to the decision that Hermione is to blame. She had pulled him into this game that she and Malfoy had been playing and, mere minutes later, had disappeared from the common room entirely, along with all the other 8th years.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr post with the prompt:

“I dare you to kiss the next person to walk into the room.”

 

Less than an hour before, Harry had been sitting on his favorite armchair—the one he and Ron had nicked from the Gryffindor common room at the start of the year—comfortably warm by the fire and catching up on some Defense homework he’d neglected the previous week. He’d been good at staying focused on his work that day, even skipping dinner to practice his wandwork for a difficult defense maneuver that the 8th years were expected to present at the start of class the following day.

Now here he is, sat crossed-legged across from Malfoy on the sofa, waiting for Merlin-knows-what devious task he will likely be sent to complete. He wonders for a minute how he could have landed himself in this quandary, and comes to the decision that Hermione is to blame. She had pulled him into this game that she and Malfoy had been playing and, mere minutes later, had disappeared from the common room entirely, along with all the other 8th years.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Harry says as Malfoy continues to look around the room for inspiration, a furrow on his brow, and an elegant hand holding his chin thoughtfully, “I want Truth.”

“Ah-ah-ah, Potter,” Malfoy replies with a smirk, his hand leaving his chin to wave a spindly finger in front of Harry’s nose. “If I recall correctly, you _specifically_ said ‘Dare.’ You can’t just change your mind all willy-nilly after the fact. Besides—”

“Oh, just get on with it you utter twat.”

Malfoy raises an affronted eyebrow. “I was just about to say, Potter, before you rudely interrupted, that I have come to a decision.” Malfoy sits straight on the sofa, his nose slightly in the air as if about to announce the arrival of the Queen.

Belatedly, Harry realizes he’s holding his breath, and lets it out slowly to calm himself from the coming storm.

“I dare you to kiss the next person to walk into the room.”

Belatedly, Harry realizes he’s forgotten how to breathe, before once again resuming normal functions. “I beg your pardon?”

Malfoy let’s out a breath of glee, his smirk deepening and the sparkle in his eye (that Harry has only just noticed) making him look a little…crazed? Mischievous? As if Christmas has come early? Whatever the word Harry is looking for, he turns towards the door, wondering if he can somehow charm the door closed for the rest of Hogwarts’ existence. He forgoes that plan when the door opens, and decides then that it might be best to leave Hogwarts altogether.

Besides him, Malfoy is cackling quietly in his hands, peeking over the back of the sofa at Dean and Seamus, who look as though they’ve just come back from a fly around the pitch, their broomsticks braced over their shoulders. Malfoy suddenly stops his cackling and looks at Harry, expectant. Harry stares right on back, hoping that Malfoy will tap him on the arm as he’s done countless times before and tell him he’s just kidding, games over.

But Malfoy gives him no such mercy and instead he stretches himself out, relaxed as can be, and raises his hands to rest behind his pretty blond hair, waiting. He raises a cool eyebrow at him. _Well?_

Harry tuts, shakes his head, and stands. He gives Malfoy one last withering look (the image of Malfoy biting his lip at him now imprinted in his memory) and saunters over to his friends.

“Harry, mate, you have to come fly with us again tomorrow. You’ve been cooped up in here for too long,” Dean says as he approaches.

Seamus nods. “It’s unnatural.”

“I promise I will,” Harry says, and grins at them, ignoring the hole Malfoy is burning at the back of his head. They grin back happily. Seamus turns to Dean and they nod at each other as if they’ve just accomplished something great. Harry makes a quick decision. “So, Seamus. I want to apologize for what’s about to happen. I promise it was not my decision to make, and if you want to take it up with someone, I suggest tomorrow, with Malfoy, during a game of Avoid-the-Bludger?”

Seamus’ brows furrow in confusion. Harry smiles at him apologetically, turns to Dean, and hesitating for only a second, steps forward and pulls Dean closer to him by the waist.

The first contact of lips is both hard and soft, warm and unsure. Dean makes a small sound of surprise and Harry feels his broomstick slip from his hand and clatter to the floor. Beside them, another broomstick falls, and Harry vaguely hears a muttered curse, though he’s not sure who the voice belongs to. Dean is all hard muscle under his shirt, warm skin at the waistband of his trousers, and although Dean feels _very_ nice under Harry’s fingers, Harry doesn’t feel that…spark? Excitement? Exhilaration? Whatever the word Harry is looking for, Dean is not meant for him, and he gently breaks off the kiss and steps away. Dean stands there, his dark eyes seeing past him, as though he’s only just realized something. Seamus stands there, too, his light eyes staring at Dean as though he can’t believe what he’s just witnessed.

Harry leaves them to it, makes his way back, and with all the dignity he can muster, plops himself back on the sofa next to Malfoy—who stares at him, grey eyes wide, pink lips slightly parted, stares at him as though he has also just realized something significant, something _vital_. Harry swallows, raises a hand to his mouth in case there’s something there, his heart skipping a beat when Malfoy follows the movements of his fingers across his lips.

“What?” Harry asks, no, _whispers_ …hoarsely. Malfoy makes a small movement, a shake of his head, raising his hand to point at something on Harry.

“What? Is there…?” Harry looks down at his shirt.

“There’s…” Malfoy sits up on the sofa, raises himself on his knees.

“What?”

“You just…”

Malfoy points vaguely again, scoots closer, his grey eyes glued on Harry. On Harry’s lips. Harry is rooted on the spot—wouldn’t move even if he could. Malfoy’s hand rests on the back of the sofa, supporting him as his face gets closer and closer, his body coming with him, and Harry can feel the warmth emanating, inviting.

 “Draco?”

“Come here.” A fistful of Harry’s shirt is grabbed and Harry’s heart just leaps from his chest when Draco pulls him against his lips. Harry braces himself on the sofa because he’s sure he’s falling, his stomach doing these funny things and his breath comes out as a moan because Draco’s tongue has worked his mouth open and why is there so much space between their bodies? A curse nearly leaves his lips when Draco pulls away.

“Don’t you every do that again.”

“Hm?” How can he still talk?

“Kiss someone else.”

Harry’s words of accusation are cut short because Draco lifts Harry’s body more securely under him and this time Harry is prepared. He lifts his hands up, slides them over Draco’s chest, around his neck and pulls him down to his lips once more.


End file.
